Stolen Queen
by Amethyst Garden
Summary: sort of an alternate universe fic. A newborn queen is sent to another universe to escape Dorothea, and here the entire Blood hierachy is upside down. She doesn't fit and she doesn't know why. Read to find out what happens to her!
1. Saving

Stolen Queen

Dorothea was cracking down. More and more tales of witches broken before they could become powerful enough to protect themselves traveled throughout all the Territories in Hyall's shadow. There were even rumors of Dorothea proclaiming herself the High Priestess of Hyall. But she was not a queen. Strong queens were what Terrielle needed to protect itself from Dorothea's sadistic ways, but strong queens were the exact thing Dorothea was eliminating. Thus the witches strong enough to rival Dorothea were either broken before they could become a threat or, if they wanted to live, had become her pets.

All the facts ran through Peitre's mind as he walked down the long stone hallway. He knew all those facts and more, yet they still wouldn't make this job of his any easier. His wife, a sapphire jeweled queen of a small Territory in Hayll's shadow, had just given birth to a daughter a few hours prior to sunrise. Now the sun burned hot just over the horizon and Peitre was sure that the rest of the castle above him was just waking and preparing for the work ahead. Peitre's work, though, was just about to end. Just a few more minutes and he would be at the very lowest part of the castle, below even the deepest basement.

Peitre instead thought of his wife. His strong, beautiful wife who dedicated her life daily to protecting others. Peitre's wife, Jesabelle, had been a fresh queen when Dorothea had come to claim the Territory as her own. Jesabelle's sapphire jewel was by no means a match for Dorothea's red and she knew that open confrontation would result in nothing but death and suffering. So Amarah had surrendered before any force was used, and that way none of Jesabelle's males, or females for that matter, were harmed. Now Jesabelle acted as a buffer between Hayll's influence and her own people. All those people who would have died defended her now served by living and protecting.

In the back of his mind Peitre kept track of the time. By now Jesabelle's maids would be entering their lady's chamber and would see the young woman, pale and exhausted, on the bed with a small box on the floor beside her. 'Dead,' her brother Albert would tell them. 'The burial will be soon. Now leave my sister to her rest, she needs it,' In the wake of the news of the stillbirth of Jesabelle's first child, no one would wonder about him.

The bundle in Peitre's arm shifted slightly and a small gurgle came out from out of it. Without stopping he pulled back the flap of the bundle and gazed down at the face of his newborn daughter. Her wide, innocent eyes stared unblinkingly back at him. Odd eyes. Green flecked with brown. No one else in the family had such eyes. 'It means that she will be special,' Jesabelle's midwife and best friend told Peitre shortly before he bundled up his daughter in his arms. He hoped, for all their sakes, that she was correct.

Finally, the ground leveled out and the hallway came to an end. Putting more energy into the witchfire he sent the ball into the center of the room. The room was a simple circle with an altar and a portal on the far wall. No priestess tended this portal. Almost no one even knew of its existence. Peitre had only been made aware of it a few months before. This wasn't a regular portal that led to another Realm, either Kaleer or Hell, this portal led to another universe. No one is Jesabelle's family had ever crossed that threshold into another universe, but the knowledge of such a feat had been passed down through the generations of queens until it came to rest on Jesabelle's shoulders. Peitre swallowed his nerves, then lit the candles of the altar and watched the portal change. No discernable difference was made, but Peitre felt it all the same. He felt the pull of the Craft being used to sustain the mortal as flowed into that other world and back out again. Slowly Peitre walked behind the altar and knelt down on the stones. He took the bundle of blankets that held his firstborn daughter and placed it gentle inside the portal. As he did so, a single tear slid down his cheek and onto his daughter's forehead. Before he had a chance to wipe it off, she was gone.

Peitre stood and turned toward the exit. By now the empty coffin was being lowered into the ground. By this time tomorrow Dorothea would know the news of Jesabelle's stillbirth. Dorothea's attention would move elsewhere, and Amarah would be safe. The life of their daughter would also be safe. With everyone thinking that the babe was buried six feet underground, no one would suspect that the child was really alive and well in another world. There, free from the threat of Dorothea and her schemes, Peitre and Jesabelle's daughter could grow up safe and become the powerful queen that was needed to shake off Hayll's shadow from Amarah. Silently Peitre prayed to the Darkness for his daughter's wellbeing and he wondered if the Darkness even existed in that strange other world. Without the darkness, how would she survive? Without the blood to guide her, how would she become a great queen? Peitre shook his head to clear away these thoughts. This was the best choice for his daughter, and he knew it.

He began walking back to the surface. Only after the simple funeral would anyone wonder where the father was, but he still had to hurry. He had a lot of ground to cover before he was back in the basement. As he walked, his thoughts strayed back to his daughter who he would never see grow. He only wished he could have given her a name.


	2. Different

A loud thud resonated throughout the small courtyard. This was followed by an even louder and very unladylike remark from a very ladylike voice.

"To the Darkness with this thrice be-damned beast!" exclaimed the young girl who was now sitting on the packed earth of the riding arena. Next to her stood a very bored looking chestnut mare and perched in various places along the fence were several stable boys all heartily laughing at the fallen girl. Another girl came trotting up. This girl was older, almost a woman, but she sat astride her horse like a man, with a leg on either side. Her long strawberry hair was tied back and pleated so it was out of her way, and she wore well-worn yet high quality ridding clothes. The girl on the ground was by contrast very young, perhaps five or six, with pure blond hair and a pleasant face. She had wide, innocent blue eyes that now stared balefully up at both horse and ride, then at her own mount, then back again. She picked herself up and dusted herself off. Her riding clothes were of the same quality, but obviously new and very dirty. It was clear she had fallen many times this day, and was probably going to fall some more. She looked around the yard at all the boys gathered to watch and stubbornly stuck her tongue out at them all in turn. Even the girl on the horse found it hard to suppress a laugh at the spunk of this little five-year-old.

"Alright boys, the show's over, get back to work before I call out the stable master!" the older girl said. The boys quickly scattered after being threatened with their master, but many still hid smiles behind their hands and sent furtive glances back to the dehorsed girl.

"Come Isabelle, back up," the older girl said. Grabbing the chestnut mare by the reins she led it over to where Isabelle could easily climb up.

"I don't even know why I have to learn how to ride this blasted beast!" Isabelle said, not moving. "Its not like I'll ever have to ride anywhere, Daddy has coaches who bring us places," Isabelle said this all still glairing at the horse; as if it was the horse's fault she had fallen off.

"Horses are an important part of our Territory, Isabelle, and if you ever hope to fill Mother's place, you'd best learn how to at least handle our family's legacy," she slid off her own horse to help her younger sister back into the lady's saddle she was learning to ride with and placed the reins in her small hands.

"Besides, horses can make great friends is you let them," she rubbed the neck of her sister's mount, her eyes gazing lovingly at the animal.

"Sara, you only love horses because you have no human friends,"

Sara's head shot up at that remark, all tenderness lost in her eyes. She knew Isabelle didn't say this maliciously. Indeed, Isabelle said it in the completely guileless way that young children have when it comes to stating the obvious and the obviously painful.

"I think the riding lesson for today is over, little sister. Why don't you take Dancer back to the stable and get her cleaned up the way I taught you," Isabelle quickly lit up at the thought of riding lessons being over and her child's brain was already planning all the fun things she could do with her free time now before lessons. She was so excited, and she had already turned toward the stable, that she did not see the hurt written clearly in her sister's eyes. She cantered away with much better form then she had used all day.

"And don't swear like that in front of Mama and Papa!" Sara called after her sister half-heartedly. She stood their alone in the ring for a few moments until her mare nudged her softly in the arm. The warm contact brought Sara out of her reverie with a start, and she looked into the soft brown eye of her only friend.

"Oh Moonfire," she said sadly, and in one swift movement was up on her horse. "Let's run," she whispered in the mare's ear, and off they were. The pale horse easily leaped the small wooden fence surrounding the training ring and within a few moments was running full tilt through the green pastures of the estate. Sara knew her sister had meant no harm with her offhanded comment. She had merely been stating what everyone else in the palace knew-that she had no friends. Perhaps it was the flippant way Isabelle had stated the cause of the greatest wound on Sara's soul. It was as if now it was not even extraordinary. Sara and her solitude was now just a part of life of the Eponese Palace.

Sara had never fit in at court or with the multitudes of children her own age who hung about the surrounding area. She had always been a loner since she was old enough to notice human company. When other children where playing Hide and Find, Sara was sitting by herself at the pond feeding the fishes her father had collected there. When Sara was six, her older brother took her riding for the first time. Soon Sara was begging her parents for a horse of her own and proper riding lessons. By the time she was eight she had stopped going to her lessons because there was nothing left to teach. By the time she was ten, she was gone most of the day riding her new horse, which she had named Moonfire. Hardly anyone ever saw her, save for the stable boys her saw her take her horse out each morning and watched her bring it back in each night.

Eponese Palace and the Territory it ruled was know for its horses. Blood from all over the Realm came to Calise to buy the finest bred horses from Sara's family. It was Sara's family's stock and trade to deal with horses, but Sara had a special affinity for the four legged parts of her life.

By now Moonfire was slowing down to a gently gait. The duo had reached their favorite spot, an area almost off the land owned by Sara's parents. A small stream flowed smoothly over polished stones as the water made its way to join the big river that transversed the Territory. A small copse of trees offered shade from the hot sun and sweet grass grew by the stream. Sara slid off of Moonfire's back and landed lightly on the spring grass. She removed Moonfire's bridle and bit and left her to graze. Sara absentmindedly meandered over to her spot under the trees and sat down. Here, she was safe from hurt. Here, she and her friend could be happy. Here, she did not have to suffer being looked upon with pity. Here, the only sounds were the birds and the water and the wind. Here, she did not have to hear the whispered conversations behind her back that stopped the moment she entered a room. She knew she was a failure to her family. She didn't need to be reminded of it everyday. Moonfire never reminded her.

Sara's mind wandered back to earlier that day. During the riding, Isabelle's jewel had come loose from inside her dress, and the Summer-sky jewel flared brightly in her mind's eye. Isabelle had only just had her birthright ceremony and she had come away with the Summer-sky. There was much rejoicing at the palace, for Sara and Isabelle's mother had worn the Summer-sky before her Offering. There was also much relief that the younger sister had not turned out like her older sister.

Sara was a birthright Green. Out of an entire family of lighter jeweled Blood, Sarah was the only one to wear anything darker than Opal. There had been hope for Sara, for she only wore the Green, and that was not so bad. There was much hope surrounding her Offering. The oldest daughter was the one who traditionally carried on her mother's legacy. So much hope, and then…

Sara felt for her jewel beneath her clothes. It was there, against her heart, where it always was. She never moved it. She never even looked at it. She was repulsed by it, and by what it meant. She was the black sheep of the family. She was ostracized by her own relatives. She was ridiculed and mocked because she was the daughter of the most powerful Blood in the Territory. All because of that jewel. That is why she came out here, to the farthest reaches of her family land. The land did not mock. Moonfire did not care how powerful her rider was or was not.

Some time later Sara finally came back to the stables. The sun was a hot fiery mass that lit up the encroaching night sky behind her. After making sure Moonfire was bedded down for the night with fresh hay and grain, Sara approached the main house. Lights blazed in almost every window. Tonight was yet another night that her family was entertaining guests. Guests, there seemed to be a constant flow of them, were another reason Sara kept away from the main house. Guests did not have the usual tact that the family and servants had when it came to Sara and her situation. Most people had only heard of the plight of the Hirnald family and their daughter. It was not uncommon for lords and ladies dressed in their very best, dripping with gems and metals, to gape and stare like children at a faire. Especial certain members of the family being entertained tonight.

Sara slipped into her bedchamber before anyone could see her. Her humiliation would only be increased at this point if any important guests saw her in her sweaty riding clothes. She washed up quickly and chose one her more modest dresses for the evening. She felt like a caged bird, trapped under layers of silk and gauze as she was. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked almost normal, and certainly inconspicuous. Maybe no one would notice her…

She knew the prospect of going unnoticed at her own family dinner table was farfetched at best, but she could still hope that one certain person would not notice her.

She left her bedchamber and began walking down the hallway toward the dinning hall on the ground floor. Torches flickered in the well-lit hallway, chasing away the shadows. Servants moved back and forth preparing rooms for the guests. Sara stopped short just as a very plump servant woman exited a room to Sara's left. The woman was piled high with sheets and it was a wonder that she could even see where she was going at all. Since Sara's eyes had been on the woman, she didn't notice the man standing the doorway, leaning calmly on the doorframe.

"Hello there, Sara. I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of seeing you yet today," the smooth male voice said. The hairs of Sara's neck stood on end as his voice washed over her like a cold wave. She turned to him, trying her very best to keep her face blank and her breathing even.

"Good evening Blain. It's good to see you again. Will you and your family be staying here long?" She deliberately ignored his comment about not seeing her that day. He was the exact person she had been hoping to not run into, but life would not be merciful to her tonight it seemed. Blain's father was a good friend of Sara's father and a very power man from a very power family in a neighboring Territory. Blain was the spoiled, arrogant result of his marriage with vain and spoiled wife. Blain had also been the person to guide Sara through her Virgin Night as a favor to her father. She had been grateful to him for being gentle that night and leaving her unbroken, but that gratitude soon died. Now he expected her to spread her legs for him whenever he was in the palace. To make matters worse, Sara had conceded to the act the first few times. She felt it was her responsibility after the good he did for her. It had quickly gotten to the point, though, where he felt entitled to having his fun with her and her previous willingness made him all the more demanding now.

"I was just coming to look for you. I was thinking maybe we could have a quick tryst before the meal," As he said this he moved closer to Sara, enveloping her in his male scent and heat. She did not want to do anything with him at all, but she knew to yell would be pointless. For the degenerate daughter, not much was banned from happen. Blain moved his arm around Sara's slight shoulders and began pressing her in the direction of the open door.

"I even had the maid clean up the place for you. I now how you don't like to get soiled,"

So that was what the maid was doing with all those sheets, Sara thought. She did not even allow herself to dwell on the double meaning of the word 'soiled'. She began to struggle. Blain tightened his hold on her shoulders. Blain was bigger and stronger, but Sara was more nimble. She ducked out from under his arm and twisted just out of his reach as a tried to grab her. She could see the temper flaring in his eyes. He was a Purple-dusk Prince-not someone a person would want to mess with, especially for a weaker female. Sara was resolute in her position to not go to bed with this man ever again. She knew these halls, maybe she could outrun him, but if he used Craft…

She braised herself to run when she heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall behind her.

It was her father, the White jeweled King.


	3. Males and Horses

Julien rolled over, sleep clouding his eyes and his mind, and he blinked repeatedly at the figure standing in the doorway. His first inclination at seeing someone entering the barn in the middle of the night was to shout for help, or perhaps quietly crawl away. The moon silhouetted the figure and blinded Julien as he tried to identify the stranger. If it was a horse thief, he should call the older lads for help, because if a horse was stolen on his watch...

But it could just a well be one of the older lads coming back late from a night in the arms of one of the maids in the main house, and calling attention to him would be a very bad idea. The lad would get in trouble, and Julien, being younger then all the other stable boys, would be unable to protect himself in the morning. As he weighed his options and tried to determine the lesser of two evils, the figure moved into the barn and away from the light outside. Sighing inwardly, Julien quickly closed his eyes and feigned sleep. Sara had entered the barn, which was something Julien had only seen her do on nights when something had gone terribly wrong. He would give her the benefit of thinking no one was awake to hear her cry.

The night had been a disaster. The arrival of her father in the hallway saved her from Blain, but only for a time. Dinner was worse than usual. Not that the food was sub-par, it was always delicious, but she had been seated between two people who insisted on talking over and around her, making the meal very awkward. The boy sitting across from her, who couldn't really be called a boy anymore, had just taken his first bedmate and his proud mother boasted so before being seated. Now, adolescent and introduced to the world of women, his male ego had swelled to incalculable size, which meant an evening full of lecherous leers and horrible off target 'come hither' looks for Sara. The fact that she was clearly four years older than him and the daughter of his host didn't seem to bother him at all either. After the meal, the more important guests were led to the parlor where Isabelle sang for them before going to the nursery where she still slept. After much oohing and ahhing and exclamations of how like her mother she was, the attention was turned elsewhere as Sara's mind began to wander. The boy from dinner was back, and this time there was no table between them. His hand seemed to move of its own accord towards her rump for the rest of the night and she was constantly shifting and moving about the room to avoid him. This did not go unseen she was sure, for her mother looked up at her once during a particular maneuver, but then turned to face her gaggle of friends once more. Her father laughed uproariously at some joke about a fox and a hearth witch. It was obvious he cared little about the fact that his eldest daughter was being hounded by a boy who probably still wet the sheets in his sleep.

When she determined no one would really care if she left or stayed, she slipped out of the room and was running through the halls before the old man who had been beside her finished his belch. She enjoyed the feeling of leaving the dinner party behind her and was beginning to relax when she ran headlong into something warm and unyielding. Manly arms wrapped around her and she stiffened instinctively as the smell of him hit her.

"What are you running from, my little pet?" Blain whispered icily in her ear. "Were you coming to find me?"

"Hardly" Sara said as indignantly as she could muster as she pushed herself away from him. _The first rule for dealing with a predator was to never let it smell fear _she told herself. Her fear mounted, though, when his hand slipped with familiarity to the small of her back.

"Let's take a little walk, shall we, my dear?" he asked with mock solicitousness as he gently pushed her down the hall.

"I'd rather not" Sara said, trying to dodge out of his grasp. Her wrapped his arm around her tighter, affectively cutting off her escape and simultaneously pushing her closer to his body, to the point where she was almost entirely pressed up against him. Suddenly she was against the wall, the bare stone pressing into her palms. Blain pinned her to the wall with his body, his arms forming a barrier on either side of her head. Her fear was rising, try as she may to keep it at bay, and she could feel it tingling up and down her arms and his warmth washed over her.

"Sara, I don't understand why you fail to understand us," Blain whispered just loud enough to be heard. All traces of solicitation or politeness was gone from his voice and his eyes where hard blue rocks. "You have no standing in this family. Your parents care about only as far as the reputations are concerned. As long as you don't make a sound, they won't care what happens to you. And if you do make a sound, they won't find any fault with me, for I have more standing in this family that you will ever have. So, why don't you just give in to me and save yourself the trouble, at least until we reach the bedroom. There you can play hard to get as much as you want," He pressed his groin against her and she gasped to find him hard against her thigh. His tastes had changed since the last time they had this dance. Before, trapping a weaker female against a wall would not have been enough to awaken him. She felt her skin prickle again. His experience had grown, and with it his taste for sadism. They resumed walking, Sara no longer trusting her voice to not betray her fear and Blain using Craft to propel her along. Soon they reached his room, where he Purple-dusk locked the door, as well as put a sound shield around the room. He was then on her, holding her arms to side and forcing his tongue in her mouth. He was off her as quickly as he had pounced and was then walking a circle around her, like a cat with its mouse. She stared straight ahead, at a mark on the wall, as he vanished her clothes, leaving just her undergarments. There was nothing she could do. She resigned herself to the fact that this was going to happen. She was no match physically, magically, or even politically to stop him, but she would not give him the pleasure of seeing her cringe. Even when the animal is about to rip out your jugular never show them fear.

"Let me tell you something about the world, Sara, in case your dear mother and father have not," He settled himself in a chair by the bed and began speaking.

"The world we live in is ruled by men. Women serve, and men protect. That is how it has always been. Men are stronger, men have greater use of their Craft, and only men can rule a Territory as its King. Strong females are drawn to strong Kings to help serve as weak females drawn to seek protection. As his birthright, a male can do as he pleases with those females who entrust their lives to him, honor and wellbeing permitting. But MEN rule, MEN call the shots, and MEN can do what they want. You should accept this fact now, because you going to be one of those women to beg a King for protection, because even serving in a court of a sex-crazed King is better then wearing _that_," at this point he pointed disgustedly at her Jewel now bare around her neck, "unprotected. You can't hope to dream that the King you serve under will not demand things from you in return for his protection. Nothing in this world is free. Think of this as a lesson in how you will spend the rest of life," He said this last part with a sick smile and a predatory gleam in his eye as he rose once more. He vanished his own clothing, undergarments and all, and he approached her once more. Pressing himself against her, he whispered in her ear "I like it a bit rough," There was nothing "a bit" about the way he said it, though, and despite her best efforts, she did the unthinkable, the worst things she could have done. Fear stole over her; she cringed as he touched her again.

Moonfire swished his tail in half wakefulness, thinking about those lovely white cubes that the short stable boy had given him earlier. That lad was good; he had a good scent about him, and always brought Moonfire treats. Moonfire was imaging the sweet goodness melting on his tongue when the heavy doors to the stable creaked open. He was suddenly alert with his ears foreword and trained on the sound. He relaxed when he saw his girl, and wondered if she might have any white cubes for him as well. The thought quickly slipped his mind as she came closer and waves of sadness accosted him. He knew instinctually that the two-legged ones in the big stable had hurt her again, so he hung his head over the stall door and waited calmly. She quickly crossed the packed earth of the stable and practically threw her arms around the horse's neck. She stood there for a long moment, letting the warm rhythm of Moonfire's breathing sooth her. The stallion felt her small form convulsing against him and held firm incase she were to fall and needed his support. He nuzzled her shoulder to get her to look up at his big brown eye and seeing that she was physically unharmed, he hung is head and pointed at the latch with his snout. Taking the hint, Sara opened the stall door and walked the few paces to the corner where the pile of animal bedding was looking very enticing. Moonfire turned to follow her with his eyes, standing over her as she settled down in the hay. Her eyes closed and she was making those odd sounds that made no sense to Moonfire but were always accompanied by intense feelings of sadness. The two-legged ones in the big stable had hurt her again, he was sure, but he could not find any outward wounds. It didn't matter; he understood that some wounds left no mark. The odd noises subsided and Sara was breathing evenly. Moonfire stood over her, watching her chest rise and fall. He would get no sleep tonight; his lady had come to him in distress, and he would stand over her and keep her safe.


End file.
